Another Regular Tuesday
by LeShyWolf
Summary: Abnormal days like this make me question my sanity. One minute I'm going for a stroll in the rain then one gigantic slap of thunder later I'm suddenly helping a bald kid with weird arrow tattoos, a boy with boomerangs who cracks stupid puns, a girl with mother-henning issues and riding a super cool bison with a fetish for apples. Huh. I guess it's just a regular Tuesday. SI. Z/OC.


**Another Regular Tuesday **

**Abnormal days like this make me question my sanity. One minute I'm going for a stroll in the rain then one gigantic slap of thunder later I'm suddenly helping a bald kid with weird arrow tattoos, a boy with boomerangs who cracks stupid puns, a girl with mother-henning issues and riding a super cool bison with a fetish for apples. Huh. I guess it's just a regular Tuesday. Self-Insert.**

* * *

"_Damn_."

Power's out.

When frustration inconsiderately tightens in my chest. Darkness uncomfortably covers my vision. A sudden blindfold wrapping around my head to block my gaze as if to prepare me for a friendly, classic birthday game of pin the donkey. My feet irritably slam down against the cool, dirty carpet as I stand. I unknowingly reach out into the abyss, hands waving around like an idiot as they start cautiously searching for the wall I know is on the left side of the brown, leather couch. The provocative blackness is at fault when my little toe connects with something hard- and extremely painful.

"_Gar-! Son of a-! Jesus on jam-!_" The slightly deep, strained cry doesn't sound like the feminine squeal that is stereotyped to fly out of my mouth. I double over and balance, my foot lifting as I cradle it gently like a fresh newborn. Tears threaten to overflow out of reflex but I blink them away with a hiss that escapes through my gritting teeth. _Fuck. _Why is it always the damn little one? Does Fate have a vendetta against poor little toes?

After a moment the harsh, burning sting subsides and I shake it off, softly placing my foot back to the floor. My grandmother would wash my mouth out with soap then ship me off to the nearest priest for redemption and sin confession if she heard the things I start to grumble into the night, muttering about disturbing plans of revenge on a certain wooden coffee table my foot collided with (I can practically hear the sadistic, evil cackles). My jaw clenches and unclenches out of annoyance, letting my long and slender fingers creep alongside vague outlines of furnishings like a graceful spider in search of a new nest, guiding myself towards the door in hopes of escape.

The lack of light, adding the harsh pelting of rain on the foggy window outside and my rather strange addiction to morbid, vivid detailed horror movies, causes the atmosphere to become slightly eerie- and my stomach to have a pang of unease. My mouth tightens, eyes flickering left and right in the pitch black. They're starting to adjust to the immensely dim lighting, but barely.

My body jumps, startled when the tips of my fingers touch cold metal, then feel the round object. Reaching forward with my left palm, I press it up against the tall, vertical and smooth surface. Then, to double check, I knock, hearing a hollow sound in response. At the success of locating the entrance to the corridor, my lips crook into a victorious grin and I do a short dance of triumph in my head before turning the knob and pushing it open.

It squeaks and creaks, like in the old fashion horror flicks. Various scenarios of a crime scene are already playing in my head as I stand at the crack of the door. I try to ignore all the lucid images, but I can't help imagination running wild. I can see it now, playing in my mind like actors rehearsing and running over their lines behind a curtain at a theatre. A guy as thin as a scarecrow, bloody chainsaw in hands. Dark, malicious eyes. Cheshire smile with teeth fully bared- then me; screaming and throwing myself out of the window in an attempt to have a quick death.

Hooary defenestration. Who doesn't love you?

Before my indecisive mind makes a change of choice- my foot steps out and strikes the floor with the speed of a python, slinking my body through the rectangular frame.

I wait, frozen like one of those people on the London or New York streets that pretend to be silver or golden statues for either money or passion. Anticipation raises the hairs on the back of my neck and stabs my gut with a pang of agitation. But when a killing psychopath doesn't jump out and shout a terrifying '_BOO_' in my face, I continue my adventure to scale the walls like a slithering snake or the Pink Panther as I make my way to the bedroom. After several amounts of cursing, fumbling, tripping and more profanities, I somehow manage to get into my room.

It's equally dark as the rest of the apartment. With the exception of a rebellious dim lighting pouring out through the window, dust littering the air as it mischievously peeks through the dark purple drapes. A fraction of my white bed is illuminated by this nosy street lamp, revealing the thin, swirling, golden patterns of my duvet.

Sliding into the room and using the dim lighting from outside, my feet guide me to the window. I raise my hands to grasp the thick material and swipe it open, allowing more dim light to reveal more of my bedroom. It's not much light, but at least it's _something._

My hands sweep over the furniture until I feel and faintly see a draw. It rolls open as my fist yanks open the metal handles. I snatch out the first thing I touch, not bothered by what it is, then strip my nightgown before pulling what seems to be a thin blouse over my head. My hair frizzes slightly as I carelessly flick the wild locks out of the collar. Then, I turn back to the object holding my clothes and take out something with a thick denim cloth. My hands feel along what seems to be jeans.

It's difficult getting dressed in the dark, but somehow I manage it.

Whirling around again and utilising the photographic knowledge printed in my mind, I slowly head towards the right somewhere. A jolt of fear and ice quickly washes over me when a flash of light and a _gigantic_ booming of ferocious thunder cracks into the night, as if the Greek God Zeus just snored. An embarrassing high pitched scream tears from my throat. My arm knocks something to the ground from the force of me jumping, the noise of shattering glass echoes into one ear and flies out of the other. My eyes clench shut and I keep my body frozen.

Well, shit. I'll have to clean it later- and avoid stepping on glass in the dark. Fantastic.

My hand moves towards the area of my heart, holding dearly onto it like it's my lifeline. The nerves in my legs tingle up and down, trembling from the aftershock. My breath shakily rushes, lungs clenching. Narrowing, my eyes drift to the aggravating shadows, swearing that they're all demoniacally laughing at my misfortune. A vein throbs in my temple and to shove it in their invisible faces, I stride confidently to where I know my wardrobe is-

Pain explodes in my head and I recoil backwards, clutching onto it with a groan. Lifting my other hand, I reach out and feel the solid wall. A sharp exhale huffs through my nose like an angry dragon would blow out smoke. Note to self; don't try to prove oneself to things that don't even exist. Especially in the damn dark.

Eventually, when I find my jacket and exclaim a triumph '_hoorah_!' I jingle my pockets and shove my hand into one, feeling the long shape of the electric key. Satisfied, I spin around, dodging the wall and going outside of my bedroom and into the main hallway. In the narrow, thin cracks around the door to my apartment pours in a bright yellow lighting. It illuminates the beige carpet. My bare feet slide across it. I grab the red converse boots from the side, quickly pull them on and then swing the door open.

Out of reflex, a wince escapes me. Eyes closing as they adjust to the bright light. I close the door behind me with a light thud, strolling down the black, metal steps instead of pressing 'down' on the lift. Because why not? It won't kill me to be a bit healthy once in a while.

When I reach the bottom, I gaze up through the blurry window of the door, hearing the harsh pelting of rain punching the glass. At this, I put my hood up and cross my fingers for luck and good fortune, then charge outside like a bull lunging towards the red flag.

Cold slaps me in the face, the polluted substance of water kissing my cheeks instantly. My eyes squint through the mist the rain causes and flicker up to the dark grey storm clouds slowly creeping above the sky. The icy rain is already soaking through my jacket so I get a move on, strolling alongside the sidewalk in a quick jog. The quicker I get to the convenience store, the quicker I can get back to watching TV while wrapping up like a caterpillar, hot chocolate in hand.

I pass people running through the shower of droplets, slicing through it like a machete through licorice. My head is hanging low, peeking through the closing eyelids. A hand snaps up, swiping the wet drops falling into my vision. My footsteps falter when a flash of light rushes in front of me, eyes momentarily shooting open widely as I flinch backwards. My lips tighten at the idiot speeding down the road, swerving the curb and zipping down almost even faster. Moron.

Crossing the road, after glancing to see if there are any drunk drivers like the guy who nearly squished me like a bug, my path continues down the pavement until I eventually come across a store. It's buzzing sign is lighting up like a beam of hope in the midst of an abyss of hell. Relief and determination flooding through me, I head toward it.

The bell on the door announces my presence as I march in. I sniffle, tearing my hood off my soaking locks and throwing an apologetic look to the irritated man at the counter as I leave a wet trail behind me. Sloppily, I shake my arms and legs to rid of the remaining, clinging rain as much as I can. Though- when it seems I'm only making a mess, a nervous smile spreads on my features and I walk behind one of the aisle to escape the eye twitching glare of the store owner.

My thoroughly ruined converse boots squeak and squelch more liquid onto the tiled floor. A sour expression stains my face, feeling a twinge of woe coil in my chest. Aw man, I got these for my birthday last month and they're practically destroyed already. Great. My mum is gonna be so pissed off for the waste of funds.

Snatching up a Milky Way from a random shelf, I dump it down onto the counter. The man, a chubby Asian man, gazes over his glasses at me. Looking down at me with scrutinizing dark, brown eyes that almost seem black. My hands casually shove themselves into my wet jean pockets, a polite and friendly smile straining on my face as a slight anxious twinge churns in my gut.

His thin lips are tightening in an unamused line, but he seizes the bar of chocolate and scans it with the machine before his sausage fingers start stabbing calculations into the till. "Two dollars."

I avert my gaze from his burning one, turning it towards the outside as I dig in my jean pockets for the cash. A small churning dread uncomfortably tightens in my stomach at the sight of the huge downpour. Lightning flashing every so often. "Thanks."

A bitter frown wrinkles in his forehead at the soggy dollars in my palm. I cough, rubbing the back of my neck. He raises his eye brow, I slap them awkwardly in his hand, much to his disgust, then pocket the chocolate. Then take out the key and pay for the top up, slapping more wet paper on his hand.

"Keep the change." I quickly mutter, gripping the handle of the door and swinging it open as I march back outside-

Only to fly backwards, like I've been flicked by the hand of Zeus.

My body collides painfully with one of the shelves- knocking them over in a perfect charade of dominoes as I collapse to the hard ground. A big ache grips my limbs, warm liquid gradually trailing down the side of my temple. A low groan rumbles in my throat as I attempt to keep my eyes open, failing miserably as spots start to cloud my vision. My head lies on the cool, dirty floor.

Then- like a theatre curtain drawing, it slowly turns black.

* * *

"_My cabbages_!"

A hazy confusion spins around in my head like a tornado of disorientation, thoughts distant and cloudy. A hoarse, low moan slowly and quietly creeps out of my incredibly dry seeming throat. Bright, blinding light is burning into me, causing a sleek sheet of sweat to cover my body. My eyes squint in response, a wince huffing out of me at the feeling of something round and hard digging into my back. Shutting off my vision momentarily as I attempt to move, my hands brush up against a rough material. Muddled images stick themselves in my mind as I try to piece the puzzle together- where the hell am I?

A male voice is shouting wildly in alarm, like a warning siren before a nuclear bomb. It painfully cracks a horrible pounding in my skull, as if it were fragile glass. Exasperation and frustration is heavily lacing his shrilling screaming. If not for his appearance- albeit a strange one with the clothes he's wearing, I'd assume he is actually a _she_.

Through my limited, blurry eyes, the world seems to whirl and start rotating in all different directions. Slight pain shoots up my back, then a harsh sting explodes in the back of my head when I start to fidget uncomfortably. My hand shoots up, carefully feeling the tender spot- a hiss escaping through gritting teeth in retaliation. _Ow_. Bloody hell.

"What do you think you're doing?" At the rather unnecessary _loud_ demand- it feels like a sledgehammer is slamming repeatedly against my poor head. The dramatic man moves around like an hyperactive kangaroo, fingers yanking at his green hat, maw dropping. "Get out of my cabbage cart!"

Even though my body is screaming all over, his girlish screeches are like nails on a chalkboard- plus it isn't exactly the most comfy mattress. I wiggle about towards the edge- then lift my slightly shaking hands, forcing myself to ignore the sharp burn that strikes through every inch of me. I pause shortly for a quick intake of breath and swing my leg over the wooden cart, landing my (weirdly _bare_ feet) on the ground. I stumble, knees trembling. For extra support, my other hand still grips onto the ruined cart to keep myself standing.

"My cabbages!" The odd man wails, lunging at his cart with a look a concerned mother generally has when her child is ill or has fallen over. A nagging sensation of deja vu throbs in the back of my mind, a pang of unease twisting in the pit of my gut. The unnerving feeling is like a breeze, icily brushing up against my skin.

Apprehension crawls up my spine. Caution is why I cut the support of the cabbage cart, despite my weak muscles, and take a good step away; I want distance. In case I need to run. Or crack my knuckles and punch someone. The more attractive option is the latter- as I'm starting to get a _little_ pissed off as more thoughts and possible theories pile up in my brain.

After a couple of minutes of staring at the sobbing freak show disturbingly hugging his 'babies' with disbelieving eyes, I take a different turn and cross my arms in a defensive position while every nerve and cell stands alert just in case. My eye brows furrow angrily, mouth tightening in a deep scowl as I eye him; I want answers- and I want them _now_.

"Where the hell am I?" When he doesn't answer, I contemplate on kicking the cart to get a reaction. He seems disturbingly sensitive and attached to the ugly, green vegetables. Maybe his mother brainwashed him as a child- exaggerating to how truly important it is to eat your five a day.

I almost echo my question, but like a violent ballerina he twirls to face me. "You rotten youngsters have _no_ respect for man's cabbages!"

Irritation flickers across his face, quickly dissolving to sadness as he goes back to mothering a destroyed cabbage. Something strange nags in the back of my mind, like that deja vu feeling again. I swat it away with a grimace, wanting to figure it out later. Not the time to skip down memory lane.

A theory about how I got drugged on the way home pops into my head like a jumping jack, but as quickly as the idea manifests- it flutters out of the window. I'm sure I wasn't _drugged_. Though- it helps to understand better why it looks like I'm in the country side. Green is everywhere. Trees in the distance. The dirt path we stand on holds different hues of beige and a pale orange. Sunlight bores down on us, thickening the beads of sweat. My need for a bucket to catch the dropping gross liquid is approaching soon.

Maybe I should take a different approach.

I swallow my pride, fingers clenching and unclenching into fists as I lower them by my side. Demanding answers doesn't seem to work, so maybe if I'm nice to this odd stranger with a deep love for something that's supposed to be edible and healthy for you. Better love story than Twilight, at least. This better be worth it.

"Look, I'm sorry." A sharp exhale huffs out of my nose. Teeth gnawing on the inside of my cheek before I continue. Might as well try to give the man a little manners, I did ruin his stool after all. "The last thing I remember is a happy Sunday stroll in the rain- then boom; I'm suddenly sleeping like a baby amidst ugly vegetables."

"I don't know!" He snaps, poking me in the shoulder. My gaze narrows sharply in a glare of annoyance. He hesitates but coughs, continuing his story in a dramatic demeanour and acting it out. So, he has an forbidden love for vegetables _and_ he's Shakespeare. Great. "One minute, I was but a happy merchant, peacefully strolling along with my cart towards, then suddenly _WHAM_! A strange girl with hair made out of golden straw falls from the sky and lands into my cabbage cart! Ruining my poor, sweet cabbages!"

Automatically, my fingers fiddle self-consciously with my locks. Being irked by this man, my lips purse into an affronted scowl. But then the rest of his crazy explanation finally sinks in. A false teeth-baring smile from my features spreads, not letting the disbelief slip as I play along with his insane story. He's obviously an escapee from a mental institute. My eyes flicker around nervously for a pay phone to call the nearest asylum- or the police. Either is fine.

Least to say; I need to get away.

My feet start slowly walking backwards, apprehensive hair raising on the back of my neck.

"Right. _So_ sorry about that. Your cabbages, that is. They were- uh, _nice_. Shiny. _Healthy_- all that. But _uh_, good luck on the business! And the forbidden love thing you have going on with the- cabbages... I'm sure your mother will accept it one day... I'll be going now-!" I don't have a directional preference, but I prefer not to spare myself another second with him.

There are some real abnormal people these days.


End file.
